


The Magic Within

by SouthernLolita



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cinderella Elements, Male Cinderella, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Stony - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 10:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16061624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernLolita/pseuds/SouthernLolita
Summary: Cinderella AU (Will edit this )





	1. Prologue: Something wicked this way comes.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not know how long this Fic will be or how often I will update it. It depends on response, if I get just a lot of comments asking for more I will jump on it. Until then I hope this little snip brings some joy. This is a Cinderella inspired fic; as many of you know I really love Disney films. If you are a frequent reader of mine you probably already know this. I just hope you all will enjoy this.

There moments in life that feel so pure, when the sun shines it's brightest and the air tastes sweet. Days of gold where everything feels blessed. Unfortunately, these days can never last and life is seldom so easy. 

* * *

 

Sarah was a kindly woman with a good heart;giving to those in need and helping whom ever asked it of her. With blue eyes that rivaled the very heavens above and a heart of gold. Sarah turned the eye of more than a few of the young men in her village. Her family had high hopes for their lovely young daughter. She was petite and fair, and with no surprise drew the affections of the son of a duke.

Her mother had been so happy to see her only child marry so well. It did the old woman good to watch young Sarah draped in white and adored with spring flowers. Finally, able to leave this world knowing her child was cared for.

Joseph Rogers, the young man who had caught Sarah's eye- had been a hard man to love. At times he was too stubborn and saw the world in black and white. He was a soldier and son of a Duke who was once a highly decorated general of the kings army. Joseph had every intention of following in his father's footsteps. Thankfully there was another part of his father's legacy he also intended to follow. The duke adored his wife and son, and like him – Joseph had loved Sarah and their happiest day he loved their first born son- Steven.

 

It was in these early days that their luck began to wane. Holding their tiny child between them in a world build for two, the Rogers would soon find a wolf at their door.

* * *

 

When war came to the lands of Marvellia, Joseph, like many other men with pride, took up his sword and lead his men under the banner of the King. Kissing his wife and child goodbye with hope and promise of a safe return.

 

If only that was to be.

 

His men would say he fought valiantly, that even in the midst of certain doom the Captain held fast and raised his sword to heavens. Yet valor is not armor and courage no shield.

  
When the dust settled, Sarah found herself a widow in the wake of war. Despite winning the war the lands of Marvellia had been ravaged by the conflict. With the country in the state as it was, Sarah retreated from the Duke’s estate to a small yet fine little farm house. Being a woman still in her youth it was expected for Sarah to take another husband, many of the men who served alongside Joseph had attempted to court her. However, Sarah had enough of soldiers and warfare. Mayhaps that pain would never leave her; even as she watched her baby sleep, she could see her fallen love yet live. There in the shape of Steven’s nose and the stormy blue of the child’s eyes. She quietly hoped and prayed that he would never take up a sword, as her heart could now bear to lose again.

 

Time past and Steven grew, he was smaller than most and often ill. In the night she would watch him struggle through fevers, his narrow chest rattling with every breath, she thought her wishes had crippled him. Sarah tried her best to keep him well and always taught the boy to hold his head high. Yet, she knew he deserved more, Steven needed a father.

That was when she met Alexander Pierce and his two sons Brock and Grant. Maybe it was Alexander’s way of speaking or his charm, maybe it was because he knew of loss. Alexander had been married twice before, to a young woman named Elaine Rumlow first. She had died early in their marriage from illness. Then Jaclyn Ward, she passed after a riding accident. Leaving Alexander with two young boys and no woman at home to care for them. Sarah felt bad for him, he seemed so charming and kind. It wasn't surprising that she fell for him.

 

She never saw past the smiles and the charm. Never saw how cruelly the two boys would stare at her Steven when her back was turned. Never realized until it was too late.

* * *

 

They had been wed for a little over three years when Sarah became ill.

Alexander played well the part of devoted husband, caring for his ailing wife day in and day out. He mourned her loss when she passed not six months after her mysterious sickness began. Pierce stood there in the churchyard with his sons, looking the entire world as a bereaved man lying to rest his beloved. Yet, behind closed doors Alexander showed his true face.

He was a selfish man who lusted for power, money and status. Doing underhanded deals with dangerous men to obtain said power. Alexander never bothered with raising the boys he had 'inherited'. Leaving Grant and Brock to emulate his behavior from a far under the tutelage of numerous nanny's and tutors. Alexander could stand the two older boys for their strength. Steven had no value to him, so treating his stepson like a servant came naturally. 

* * *

  
  
This dear friends, is where our tale truly begins, in a farmhouse built by a meadow near the babbling brook. The picturesque scene of tranquility and beauty against a back-splash of clear blue skies. Just off in the distance the grand gold tower of the King and his loyal subjects stands. Yet here far removed from the village and the bustling town streets - the only sound is the gentle voice of a young man with hair like spun gold and eyes as blue as the robin’s egg.

A young man named Steve Rogers, or as his Stepbrothers call him- Cinders.

 


	2. Chapter 1: Cinderfella

“Steven, I need you to go to the market and drop off a parcel for me.” Alexander said as he entered the kitchen where his stepson was currently making breakfast.

 

It had already been a very busy morning for Steve who woke with the sun just as he does every morning. After tending to the animals, he would gather up fresh eggs and bring them in to start breakfast. Bread would need to be baked and oranges squeezed. They had been low on milk so Steve hoped they wouldn’t notice the absence of the pitcher on the table. Tea and juice would have to do. There had been just enough meat left for his step-siblings and their father - Steve would be doing without today. Not that that was unusual - the young boy had learned to take the scraps and make the most of what he had left.

All the while trying to keep an eye on his stepfather’s cat. The old tomcat had a sour disposition and one remaining eye. Its name fitting, Fury.  
  


“Yes Sir, I just have to put some clean straw in the hen house and…”  
  
  
“Steven.” The older man sighed as if terribly annoyed, “This is far more important than those stupid creatures, do as I say.”  
  


“Yes Sir.” It was easier not to argue.

 

Steve clenched his fist hearing the echoes of laughter from the dining room. Brock and Grant the spoiled idiots. He heard the crash of yet another teacup and knew that it most likely had been some of his mother’s china. There was only a few of them left at this point, so few things he had of her that were still in one piece… including him if he was being honest.

Every day he felt a little bit less, no matter how high he managed to hold his head their vicious taunts slowly consumed him. How much longer… until there was nothing left?

* * *

Of course, when he looked Steve was right, as he brought in the breakfast cart one of the delicate bone chine cups lay shattered on the floor. Tea already seeping into the rug. He would have to scrub it before it set, so much for having a warm breakfast for himself.

This was only one of the chores he would have today, breakfast would be forgotten entirely- save for a bit of bread he was able to stow in the pocket of the apron he wore about his waist. After cleaning the rug and clearing the table, while listening to a cacophony of jeers from his stepbrothers. Steve was already making a list of the things he would need to do today lest he draw the ire of his stepfather.

 

“Nice skirt princess, was it your mothers?” Grant said smirking with his feet kicked up on the table, gesturing to the apron the young man wore. Brock stood by the window with folded arms grinning likewise at the rude customs of his younger half sibling.

 

“He does have a dainty figure after all.” The elder boy said. “Can hardly call little our Cinder a man at all.”

 

Steve felt his jaw clench, he wanted to talk back, wanted more than anything to tell the both of them did to take a flying leap. However, Steve knew now what it would get him and he couldn’t very well go into town with a black eye or of busted lip. Even if it would be worth it. People would ask questions and then Alexander would be angry.

Instead, the blond ignored the jabs of the older boys and continued with his sweeping up. Minding Fury as the old tabby swished out of the kitchen and hoped onto the table. The cat picked over the left overs on his master’s plates before taking up residence in Grants lap.

* * *

After the kitchen was cleaned and dishes put away Steve still had to go into town, the package left for him by the door with specific directions of the destination. A merchant’s hall near the castle, to a man named Gideon Malick.

The merchant’s hall was a noisy place filled with old men who drank far too much ale and boasted of deeds far grander in their own minds than reality itself. Steve was directed to a back room of the hall, lead down a narrow walkway where the sound from the main parlor was muffled into silence the farther he walked, and to a meeting room.

Gideon was an old man with silver hair and dark eyes, the kind of eyes that looked right through you. They didn’t look through Steve though; instead, they looked him up and down with ill intent. Eyes that seemed to linger too long. “So, you’re one of Alexander’s boys? I will say you favor him in coloring more than the other two, I suspect your mother was a beauty as well.” The old man said with a snake-like smile.

 

“Mr. Pierce is not my father.” Steve couldn’t keep the distaste out of his voice try as he might.

 

“I see, so you’re simply a servant of his? I hadn’t thought Alexander was the type… though, I could see where he might make an exception. Come boy; let me see what it is your master has sent.” The old man beckoned, yet instead of taking the package he grabbed Steve by the arm and drug the boys slim form into his lap.

 

“LET ME GO!” Steve shouted, jerking away and sending the package tumbling to the floor.

 

Gideon’s guards moved forward but halted at a raised hand from their master. The old man laughed, bending to pick up the package. “Feisty little thing. Run home boy, and here’s a little reward.” The man said flipping a gold coin at Steve’s feet.

 

“I don’t want your money… I don’t want anything from you!” the youth growl holding his head high and back straight as he left, hearing the old man laughing behind him.

 

Whatever dealing Alexander had with Gideon, they were not the kind Steve wanted anything to do with. Or any part of the coin that men like that made. The profit from blood wasn’t something he could hold in his hands. Even if his stomach yearned for food and his, body weak from sickness. He’d find another way to make it, a better way, and an honest way.

One day he’d honor his mother’s memory and be someone she would be proud of.

* * *

The walk back from the village took some time, making the way on foot wasn’t easy for him. Steve had to stop along the way to catch his breath, his narrow chest rattling with each too deep breath. The last thing he needed was to be late making supper because his lungs refused to cooperate.

Thankfully, when he rounded the bend Steve noticed his stepbrother’s horses were missing. As was the steed of his stepfather. Perhaps if he was lucky they would all stay away for the evening and leave Steve to his own.

With the good fortune of an empty house on his side, Steve took to watering the animals; each had become a friend to the isolated young man. Some though were more dear than others.

The barn rooster, who Steve affectingly called Hawkeye, came strutting up through along the dirt path. The crazy bird had a habit of thinking he was some mighty bird of prey and leaping form the barn roof. Just behind trailed an old goose named Phil, the black and white foul always cozy up to Steve whenever he sat in the grass. “Hey guys, hope you’ve not been causing too much trouble for the ladies.” Steve joked looking back in the hen house where the chickens were all preening on their nests.

After caring for the outside creatures, Steve would head in to do some cleaning and hopefully find a few scraps of bread and cheeses. He was in luck today and wrapped his spoils in a cloth before climbing the stairs to the attic.

 

“I’m home!” Steve called cheerfully to what looked like an empty room. Though if one were to look closely they would see, it was not in fact empty.

 

The soft scurrying of tiny-clawed feet scratched inside the walls before three little balls of fur dashed out of a small crescent shaped hole in the baseboard.

Steve smiled and slowly lowered himself onto the floor with a groan. His back and knees bothered him today; he hoped all the more his so-called family would not return tonight then maybe he could boil some water for a bath. He was only allowed to bathe in an old wooden washtub outside usually.

 

“Did you all miss me?” He asked holding out a palm for the trio of mice. “Natasha has Bucky and Sam been good today?” He inquired to the little ginger mouse who hoped onto his outstretched hand.

 

The mouse looked over her shoulder to the other mice, one with only three legs squeaked petulantly at the question. Natasha shook her head.

 

Steve laughed, “It was Bucky wasn’t it?”

 

Mouse in question flicked his tail and narrowed his red eyes. The other slightly larger brown mouse sounded as though it was laughing with little rapid squeaks.

 

“Sorry Buck seems like two against one, it’s ok lucky for you I have a soft spot for trouble makers.” Steve smiled letting Natasha run up his arm and settle on his shoulder. He held out his hands for the other two, Same perching on his knee and Bucky standing on his hind legs in Steve’s palm demanding attention.

 

The little white and black mouse had lost one of his legs recently after a particular nasty run in with the resident house cat.

Steve lifted his palm to look at the little makeshift bandage. “I hope you’re feeling better. I brought you all some dinner by the way. It’s not much but I think between the four of us we will be ok.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
